


Not the Kind of Mucky Weekend We're Used To

by colisahotnorthernmess



Category: The Repair Shop (UK TV)
Genre: Banter, Clothed Frottage, Established Relationship, Flirting, Hotel Sex, Kissing, M/M, Touching, Undressing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-04
Updated: 2020-02-04
Packaged: 2021-02-26 09:56:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22467400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colisahotnorthernmess/pseuds/colisahotnorthernmess
Summary: So, as anyone who knows me will tell you - when I start to fall head over heels for a ship, it's only a matter of time before I start to tap out something a little more smutty. This is definitely on the naughty side. After a long day of filming The Repair Shop - made even longer by thoughts of what was to come - Jay and Steve manage sneak off together and find a hotel room, where there is - unsurprisingly - plenty of banter and sexy moments."I wasn't there with you when you picked up the key - they'll be thinking you've brought some glamorous young girl here for a mucky weekend," he told him."Mucky's the right word," Jay snorted, pulling the grubby white t-shirt over his head.
Relationships: Jay Blades/Steve Fletcher
Comments: 6
Kudos: 5





	Not the Kind of Mucky Weekend We're Used To

**Author's Note:**

> Please note that this is a work of fiction involving real people written by myself - it is a completely made-up fantasy and is in no way intended to cause offence.

"It's weird... seeing you here when I'm used to seeing you at your bench, just... working away," Jay said, in a way that almost seemed worried. "I mean, sure - we've been down the pub together and stuff, but somewhere like this?" he fretted, "What if anyone knows we're here?"

"Who cares about us?" Steve joined Jay by the window, and wrapped his arms comfortingly around the other man, who was staring out onto a bleak and empty car park - there was the odd vehicle, no doubt belonging to couples doing similar things - because who in their right mind would book a place like this for a romantic getaway? No-one wanting their relationship to last longer than a week.

Ironically, they spent almost every minute of every day together, during filming, in surroundings famed for their charm and beauty. When Jay thought of all of the hotels he had ever booked, this had to be the blandest, most generic-looking building he had ever set foot in - where all the walls were beige, all the carpets were the same navy blue pattern, reminiscent of public bus seats, and curtains were the same shade of burnt orange; he quickly drew said curtains to a close. But Steve was right - the staff in these places didn't care one bit; they could have been harbouring a wanted criminal in the room and the staff wouldn't have batted an eyelid - they weren't paid enough to care.

It had been the longest ever day restoring items for The Repair Shop, knowing that this is what they would be doing at the end of it - and Jay's tummy had been awash with butterflies for most of the morning and afternoon. The only time his stomach had stopped fluttering was during the odd lapse of concentration, when he'd forgotten - but the prospect of what was to come was never too far from his mind. What had started out as innocent banter between the pair of them had quickly developed into flirting, in a sort of friendly way - and, then, eventually, the kind of flirting which was firmly in the 'more than friends' category. But it was difficult to talk about such things during working hours, surrounded by their colleagues and under the constant scrutiny of television cameras.

Throughout today, Steve had been refurbishing a cuckoo clock which had managed to lose its 'cuck' sound, and Jay had been helping Will bring a piano stool back to its former glory. Every time Jay had inadvertently - _of course_ \- walked past Steve's bench, he'd felt compelled to provide the clock expert with a cheeky grin.

"As if they'd have any doubts about who _you_ were," Blades laughed, referencing the clock-covered waistcoat his partner was wearing - but, then again, he often wore it for the programme and they had - after all - just come from filming the show. "Who _we _were," he added, noticing that he, himself, was still covered in dust and wood shavings. He slapped his chest and attempted, feebly, to rid himself of the debris.

Fletcher shrugged, nonchalantly, as he began to undo his waistcoat buttons. "I wasn't there with you when you picked up the key - they'll be thinking you've brought some glamorous young girl here for a mucky weekend," he told him.

"Mucky's the right word," Jay snorted, pulling the grubby white t-shirt over his head, and giving Steve little time to appreciate the situation before being bombarded with the feelings brought about by a shirtless Jay. The older man purred and Jay laughed, slightly bashfully, before throwing the t-shirt onto the floor.

"Your turn now, matey," he declared, batting Steve's hands away from his own buttons and finishing the job for him, allowing him then to wriggle free from of the clothing. He held the silken item for a second and rubbed his thumb over the soft, shiny material, and thought of all of the times he had been sat at the other end of the workshop, admiring Steve as he worked - admiring the work being done by him and, _indeed_, the man doing the work. He shut his eyes and could almost see the familiar setting, fantasising instead that they could perhaps be there, with none of the others around them - enjoying one another's company _alone_ \- Jay sprawled out in one of his newly-upholstered creations, trousers undone, with Steve above him - _kissing_ him, _loving_ him - as Jay tugged hungrily at _that_ waistcoat.

"--What are you thinking about ?" his thoughts were interrupted.

"I'm thinking about _you_ and all of the things I want to _do_ to you," Jay smirked, neatly folding the waistcoat and placing it on the back of a chair. "And thinking," he paused, starting now on Steve's shirt, "Why you have to have so many fucking _buttons_."

"Don't pull it," Fletcher advised, sensing that their inability to suppress their desire was rising; he quickly undid the shirt, manoeuvred himself out of it, and let it join the aforementioned garment on the chair's back before heading to the bed.

"So then... Steve," Blades began, as they both gently bounced on the mattress, "What makes you _tick_?"

"You're awful," he was duly told. Before Jay could make another dreadful joke, Steve cut him off with a quick though, thoroughly fierce, kiss. And, when they both broke away from it, it was clear to Jay - from the look in Steve's eyes - that he meant business. Less small talk; there was plenty of time for that in day-to-day life, and this was a rare opportunity for something different. He urged Jay to clamber atop him, and rolled his hands adoringly over the furniture restorer's chest, as he watched him climb aboard - a chest that was attractive and slightly muscular - just toned enough in his opinion - and dotted with beautiful black fuzz. Blades struggled initially to make himself comfortable and the shuffling about of his backside may not have been deliberate, but it was driving Fletcher to distraction.

"You're awful..." Steve repeated, "... at _some_ things..."

"But I'm so brilliant at getting you _hard_," Jay leaned over and whispered in his ear, teasingly, as he bucked his hips - sliding his bottom over the tent in Steve's jeans.

"Oh _god_," Steve choked, feeling as though he'd had all the air squeezed out of his lungs as Jay reclined over his body; feeling as though he'd had all of the sense knocked out of him as Jay ground against his lower half, rendering him into a quivering mess of a man. He reached down and managed to slide a few fingers into the tight vice of Jay's belt, diving beneath his trousers and desperately reaching for his erection, restrained within his underwear. He couldn't see - his eyes were closed as the pair continued to kiss - and he could barely feel, with only his finger-ends managing to slip through, but he must have hit the spot, caressing the tip of Jay's cock through his boxers until the material became slightly damp and the recipient groaned heavily.

Jay simply had to pull back momentarily, in order for Steve to undo his trousers - he couldn't wait a single minute longer for his clothes to be _off _\- but the horologist really was struggling with the hindrance that was this tight, leather belt. "Are you trying to tell me that you can sort out a mechanism with a thousand different tiny parts, but you can't get little buckle undone? Deary me, mate," he giggled.

"It's some sort of fancy fastening," Steve excused himself, with a blush, still tugging harshly at the device.

"Maybe - just maybe - we have the _great_ Steve Fletcher finally beat," Jay winked, as he managed to undo the contraption himself and slowly unzipped his fly, revealing his package.

"You know I'd have ripped it off with my bare hands if I'd _had_ to," Steve growled with smile, as Jay was dragged back into position, trousers now at his ankles and half-falling off of the end of the bed.

"I think viewers would be quite alarmed to know you had such a feral streak," came a snigger, as the pair resumed where they had left off, "They certainly wouldn't be letting you near their precious heirlooms."


End file.
